


Hubert Goes with Everything

by marauder_in_warblerland



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauder_in_warblerland/pseuds/marauder_in_warblerland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine's having some trouble decorating their new apartment, and it isn't just the color scheme. [Written for the Klaine Advent Challenge]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hubert Goes with Everything

“I’m going to need some help in here.”

Kurt looks up from the open cardboard box filled with labeled kitchen supplies to glance towards the open bedroom door. From this angle, he can’t see inside, but he knows his fiance’s in there somewhere. He disappeared with a box of books and nicknacks nearly an hour ago and has yet to emerge.

“Blaine, I have faith in your ability to arrange your own _Goosebumps_ books,” he says. “Follow your muse.” 

“That’s sweet, honey. But I really need you for this.” Blaine’s voice has taken on an edge of urgency, tinged with embarrassment, and Kurt wonders if he’s gotten the urge to give everything to Goodwill. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He hoists himself up from an awkward kneeling position and tip toes through the maze of boxes and new appliances between the kitchen and the master bedroom. Blaine’s parents have been generous since their New York move became official and, at this rate, they won’t have anything left to put on a wedding registry, but Kurt isn’t complaining. His cherry-red mixer is a thing of untold beauty.

When he reaches the bedroom, he finds Blaine facing away from the door and towards a tall bookshelf on the farthest wall. The books all appear to be in place. Even from the doorway, Kurt can see that Blaine’s got them organized by color and genre, with allowances made for oversize copies. It’s beautiful and completely expected. Kurt’s about to ask why he had to make the dangerous trek from the kitchen when he sees the model robots in Blaine’s hands.

“Kurt, should I put the red one or the yellow one by the collage?” Blaine asks. “I keep switching them, but neither one looks right.” He holds the red robot up against the sparkly frame and squints before switching to the other hand.

Kurt wants to say that both options look equally unpacked, but he gets the sense that that isn’t the right answer.  “I would go with the red one,” he offers. “The silver accents draw attention to Tina’s first prom dress and I think she would like that. Don’t you?” He reaches out to squeeze his fiance’s tensed shoulders, but Blaine’s already moving in the other direction. 

“Would you try holding them up?” Blaine pushes the figurines into Kurt’s open hands and pivots to perch on the edge of the un-dressed bed frame, hands tapping an anxious rhythm on his knees. “I don’t think I can get the proper perspective from up close.” 

Kurt glances down at the yellow robot now in his right hand and raises an eyebrow in Blaine’s direction.

“What?” Blaine says and gestures towards the bookshelf. “Go ahead.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Kurt gives a sarcastic salute and lifts his left hand towards the framed collage of photos from Blaine’s senior year. “What do you think?” he says. “Any different from this angle?” 

Back on the bed, Blaine cocks his head and studies the juxtaposition of robot and picture frame with a seriousness usually reserved for internal medicine. After several rounds of “hmmmm” and “now the other one” Kurt starts to entertain himself by mentally matching _Harry Potter_ special edition bindings to the colors of the New Directions performance outfits. When he turns back to the bed, he finds his tiny dictator collapsed backwards onto the mattress, his legs dangling off the side, and hands pressed into his forehead.

From his prostrate position, Blaine lets out a groan that lands somewhere between a whine and a wail. “This is stupid. I know this is stupid. What am I even doing?”  

“Unpacking?” Kurt tries.  

Blaine uncovers his eyes and gives Kurt a reproachful glare. “Not that. I mean the robots.” He waves in general irritation towards the shelf and smacks his hands back over his eyes. “What am I doing trying to make robots fit into Kurt Hummel’s perfectly, tastefully decorated bedroom? It doesn’t matter if I can get the red robot to go with the red books and the blue robot to go with my silly picture frame. None of it will ever fit in this room. It’s like getting invited to a potluck with Wolfgang Puck and bringing a bag of Big Macs.” He rolls over onto his stomach and buries his face in the blankets like a petulant ostrich. 

“But, Blaine,” Kurt crosses to sit on the corner of the mattress and turns towards his distraught future husband. “Some people like Big Macs.”

“You don’t. You think they’re tacky.” 

“True.” Kurt nods slowly, “but robots go with everything.”

Blaine drops his arms to his sides and just stares in disbelief. “Who are you, and what have you done with Kurt Hummel?” 

“What?” Kurt shrugs. “It’s true.”

Blaine pushes himself up into a sitting position and crosses his arms tight across his body. “Last year, when I asked for numbers 15 and 23 in the series for Christmas, I distinctly remember _someone_ calling them survivors of the pop-art reject bin, and I don’t think you can pin this one on Sam.”

“Now wait.” Kurt presses his palms together, fingertips just touching his mouth. He tries not to smile and then sets his hands, lightly, on Blaine’s knee. “Let me try that again. You’re right. Most robots don’t go with everything.” He looks up from his hands into Blaine’s wide, earnest eyes and takes a deep breath. “First of all, this isn’t my tastefully decorated bedroom. This is our tastefully decorated bedroom. It’s as much yours as it is mine, so that means your robots go with everything. They go with my scarves, they go with my sheet  music, and they go with my pretentious decor, because they’re a part of you and you go with my _everything_.” At the last, he throws out an arm, taking in the entire unkempt space in one expansive gesture.

“In fact,” he continues. “You don’t get to decide where all of your little friends go.” Kurt reaches out and plunks a black and white checked robot from the pile of figurines on the other side of Blaine’s body. “I want this one on my side table, because if that design isn’t a riff on Givenchy, then I deserve to have my _Vogue_ experience revoked.”

That little robot remains on Kurt’s bedside table for three years. After one year, Blaine goes back to building his collection. After two years, Kurt names him Hubert. After three years, Hubert permanently relocates from Kurt’s side table to what was formerly the guest bedroom, and earns his new title as baby’s first robot. 


End file.
